


if only this was our story

by youngerdrgrey



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngerdrgrey/pseuds/youngerdrgrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In the spirit of full disclosure, Cosima, I almost met you even before I left my fake transcript. I told Aldous that I couldn’t focus without having something to conceptualize, but honestly, I just couldn’t help myself."</p>
<p>Pre-Series ficlet, Pre-Science Girlfriends but with some hints.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if only this was our story

**Author's Note:**

> (also posted on Tumblr and FFN)

In the spirit of full disclosure, Cosima, I almost met you even before I left my fake transcript. I told Aldous that I couldn’t focus without having something to conceptualize, but honestly, I just couldn’t help myself.

He’d paused when I first mentioned the thought of meeting a clone. His eyes, they were lost to me for a moment, and I remember worrying about overstepping, about asking my lover for something my boss would never have considered. That kind of request was why relationships like ours were forbidden after all. But, then he’d peered back at me with this almost smile on his lips.

“In that case,” he’d said, “how would you like to see her?”

I couldn’t even begin to process what I felt in that moment. My heart constricted in my chest. My eyes widened, probably comically based off of how he had chortled at me. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to meet one of you. And, not just any clone but my clone — my preferred subject — 324B21.

You have to understand; Aldous spent so much time reinforcing this distance between the scientists and the subjects. Despite his efforts, the other scientists and myself, we would come up with lives for all of you. We’d mumble explanations for differences in blood work, or x-rays.

I had always imagined you must’ve been one of those tortured, intelligent types. The ones who drown their questions in substances and find their answers while lost in a haze. You always had more than a little bit of THC in your blood, every test, so my assumption was within bounds.

You still haven’t gotten me ‘so baked,’ by the way. Not that that’s all you are good for, I know that. I mean, I knew it even then.

That night, Aldous took me to a bar not ten miles away from your university. Conversation stayed low in there, just under the words of the music, barely above the clinking of glasses on tabletops and billiards balls ricocheting around their tables. My eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, but I barely allowed them a moment before I began searching for you.

I scanned the drinkers and dancers and diners alike. Aldous took my arm as we walked to a table on the right side of the bar. I fear he held onto me more to keep me upright than for appearances.

Once we sat down, I began guessing, pointing at people and asking if they were “her.” He only gave me a few guesses before he cleared his throat to call my attention.

“Over there,” he said, lifting his hand briefly to point at a table we’d walked right past.

Three people sat there. A bumbling man who left the lab with his white coat on, a woman with blonde streaks in her hair and a disregard for everything but her drink, and a small woman with twisted hair tied back from her face who spoke with her hands in the air. I peeked back at Aldous, but his eyes stayed firmly on you.

My voice caught when I tried to say something. “That is…?” He nodded without me finishing.

“324B21.”

With confirmation, I focused back. You were talking, which is kind of a given with you. Your hands flew around you as you spoke. The man at your table seemed taken with you, awestruck. His gaze centered on your lips, which were always moving and slightly chapped. I assumed that meant you were single, but I know now that you simply fail to hydrate on a regular basis.

You sat shoulders back, so confident, assured; commanded attention, you know? And you had glasses, so you were definitely the smart clone.

I tried to memorize you. Keep the sight of you in the back of my mind. You weren’t simply another person. You were someone science made, someone genetically engineered to help us understand the mysteries of the universe that are codified within human bodies. You were — are — a gift.

For a moment, you actually looked up, and our eyes met. God, you smiled at me, and I was sure my cheeks would split from grinning back at you.

Though you could not hear me, I still greeted you. Lightly, almost under my breath, my slight “Bonjour,” my mesmerized “324B21.”

Often, I wish our whole relationship could be like that moment, so honest and... normal. I mean, the blonde and the brunette, eyes meet across the bar, what a cliche we could've been. If only.


End file.
